


Presumption

by Sineala



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/F, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe they both have secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Presumption

**Author's Note:**

> For Kink Bingo 2013; the square is "sensation play." This is set sometime between "A Race Through Dark Places" and "Divided Loyalties."

The second time, Talia leaves the Corps pin in her quarters before she shows up at Susan's. The wine, though -- that, she brings again. That had been a good idea. And maybe now Susan will see her -- her, Talia Winters, the woman who wants to get to know her -- and not Talia Winters, commercial telepath, P5, and therefore The Enemy.

She can only try.

When Susan opens the door she is again dressed informally, possibly ready for bed, this time in a shift, green and satin-like, that sweeps wide across her collarbone and leaves Talia's mouth dry. She is human, after all.

They hadn't, last time. It had been a nice conversation, and nothing more. She thought perhaps Susan might have wanted more, might have wanted the evening to end the same way she did. But she did not scan her then, and she will not now. Susan would never trust her again. And so if Talia wants this, she will say so, aloud. Like mundanes do.

Talia's never liked the word "mundane."

"Hi," says Susan, smiling. "Back for another night?"

Talia nods, and Susan steps back and lets her in.

The conversation proceeds normally, perfectly normally, until Susan's fingers bump against the back of her hand, while reaching for the wine bottle. She's still got her gloves on -- of course she's got her gloves on, even she wouldn't dare that much familiarity -- and she can feel the pressure of it, if not the heat. Despite herself, Talia shivers.

When she looks up, Susan is regarding her with curious eyes.

"You don't touch people much, do you?"

Talia opens her mouth, and for a few brief seconds she wants to tell Susan everything, everything about the Corps, rotten at its heart. Everything they told her Down Below. The experiments. The breeding programs. Even Ironheart's gift. But she knows Susan's mother was a telepath -- she has known this since she met her -- and so none of it would surprise her. Oh, the exact details, maybe, those would be new, but not the scope of it. Susan already knows what the Corps is capable of. There would be no point except sadness, and there has been enough of that.

So she shapes her mouth into a smile. "No," she agrees. "I suppose I don't."

Susan stares at her for long moments, and Talia wants nothing more than to see what she is thinking. She doesn't check.

And then Susan meets her eyes and smiles. "Did you want someone to?"

Well. So they have had the same intentions, after all. Talia smiles back. "It would be nice," she says, just so they're clear here.

And then Susan laughs and stands up. "Close your eyes."

It's not really what she was picturing would happen, when she imagined this. She does it anyway. Her eyes are shut. Her mind is shut.

There's the rustle of fabric, Susan moving closer, and then a hand settling onto each shoulder. Talia's still dressed for work, covered up a fair amount, and so she can only feel the weight of the touch through the fabric, carrying no other information with it.

Susan's fingers knead into her shoulders with careful, even pressure, massaging little circles. It's a little bit too heavy; she's probably overcompensating for the padding of the clothing.

Talia smiles, and she feels Susan's hands drift, decorously enough, to her arms.

She can feel Susan's breath, just barely, against her cheek, against her jaw, and she wonders if Susan is going to kiss her. Her eyes flicker open.

"Eyes shut," Susan repeats. Maybe she can't do this if Talia is watching.

Susan doesn't kiss her. She isn't touching her, skin to skin -- it is still the heavy muffled weight of hands over cloth. Talia doesn't even know if it's meant to be calming or arousing; it could just as easily be either.

Susan's hands move back, coming around her in a kind of embrace, rubbing over her shoulder blades, down her spine. Maybe she doesn't want to touch her skin?

Maybe they both have secrets.

All at once it stops, and Talia opens her eyes.

Susan has stepped back, and her expression is unreadable. Well, that's not precisely true. Talia could read it. If she wanted. There are so many possibilities.

"I wouldn't scan you," she offers. "Not without your permission."

Some tension about Susan's eyes, some nearly imperceptible tightness, suddenly relaxed. It was the right thing to say, but she has not let her guard down completely. Not yet.

"Don't, then," Susan says, her voice gone flat and hard, but then she's reaching for Talia's hands, for her gloves, and Talia can't quite stop herself from moaning when Susan pushes up her sleeve, and touches her, oh God, bare skin, bare skin--

"Sorry," she says, hastily.

But Susan is grinning now, the triumphant smile of someone who has just realized something. "Might your intentions be... impure?"

_Nothing about this is impure_ , she wants to say. She has known things far less pure than this. But she knows what Susan means. "They might be."

Susan's fingers tap out a quick beat, feather light, on the inside of her arm, warm soft warm soft warm, and she has to know what this is doing to her. Almost any telepath, touch-starved, would have the same reaction, the same heavy press of heat and need and desire. It's not a mystery. Talia's not a mystery.

"I didn't want to... presume," she says, finally, her gaze arrestingly intent.

"Oh," Talia says, laughing, "presume away."

And she shields up, tucks her mind inside itself, and it is touch, nothing but touch, when Susan takes her hand and leads her to the bed.

It is anything but mundane.


End file.
